Star Struck
by Mouse9
Summary: High sap factor! Helga and Arnold meet up after years of being apart.
1. Default Chapter

Okay, let's get the major stuff out of the way. "Hey Arnold" does not belong to me. It belongs to Craig B. I just borrow them, fast foreward some years and do really fun things with them. A few little things. This is before I found out Geraldine was cannon. Yes, I know Arnold's last name is not McIssacs...that we know of. And there was an episode where Arnold went to Quigly Stadium...hence the entire Chicago backdrop.  
This is your complementary angst and sap warning. I ran into a maple tree before writing this story. If you are allergic to either of these, stop reading now.  
Feedback is always appriciated. Flames will be dicected and toasted with marshmellows.  
And now...on with the story...  
  
  
  
Genevieve walked into the theater she'd almost been living in for the past year with a sigh  
of relief. One more day down, only thirty five more days to go.  
  
When her manager suggested taking a break from the stress of Broadway to do a year tour in Chicago theaters, she had refused. It had taken an incredible amount of persuasion on his part to  
finally get her to agree. She hadn't known why at the time but the very thought of staying  
in Chicago gave her the chills. She hadn't been back to the town since she'd left as a child.   
She hadn't even considered it an option. That part of her life had been left here when she  
had been forcefully removed and sent to live with her sister in New York.  
Her parents had told her it was for her own good and that she needed culture. They enrolled her in an exclusive prep school, then she spent her high school career in the New York School of  
Performing Arts...the only good thing her parents ever did for her.   
  
After a few months of the prep school she had learned to quickly adapt to her new life.   
Along with her new life, she took a new name. No longer could she be Helga Pataki, the  
tomboy bully of Chicago; she would now be Genevieve Boulivier, the graceful actress of  
New York. The longer she was there, the more her old life seemed like a dream. There  
was only one link still reminding her that it had truly happened.   
Phoebe.   
Somehow, Phoebe had convinced Olga to give out her address and they had been corresponding sinceeighth grade.   
  
She was the only real reason that Genevieve had agreed to come to Chicago and do stage.   
She was dying to find out what Phoebe looked like now and how her life had turned out.   
When they finally met again, the years lost melted away. They tried to see each other at  
least once a month while Genevieve was in town. It was on one of those visits that she  
had met Phoebe's fiancee, Gerald Johansson. She had stood there in shock for a moment,  
when she was introduced. Due to the agreement they had made as teenagers, Phoebe  
hadn't told anyone the true identity of Genevieve Boulivier, not even her fiancee. And  
Gerald, luckily was too caught up in Phoebe to ever question her or to take a longer look  
at the young woman.  
  
Now with the year closing out, Genevieve found herself anxious to return to New  
York. She would miss Phoebe, but this town was starting to get to her. She had even had  
a dream about him last night. That was something that hadn't happened in almost twenty  
years. Dreams when she was younger, when she wasTHAT person, that was fine. But  
not now.  
"Prima donna, we're all waiting for you." Came the joking comment from one of her  
co-stars. She glance around, dropping her sweater and purse onto one of the seats.  
"Is Melissa not here yet?" she asked, jokingly. She climbed up onto the stage and joined  
the others in rehearsal. 


	2. Part Two

"Hey Gen, you had a message during rehearsal," Tina, the directors assistant, told her as  
she was leaving the stage for a break. She handed Genevieve a message.  
"Thanks Tina." she said, opening the piece of paper. It was from Phoebe. Smiling, she  
crossed over to her purse and pulled out her cell phone. It rang twice, then was picked  
up.  
"Hiya Phoebs," Genevieve said, still reverting to their old greeting. "What's up?"  
"Greetings Ginny? Do you have plans for tomorrow night?"  
"Well, there's this play I'm in..."  
"I meant after that silly."  
"Phoebs, the play is over at ten. I get out of here at eleven."  
"Would you like to meet us for drink after that, perhaps?"  
"Well, I guess...wait a minute. Phoebe, what is going on?"  
"A friend of Gerald's is coming into town tomorrow and Gerald thought maybe, if you  
didn't have anything to do..."  
"Are you telling me Gerald is setting up another blind date for me?" she asked. Tthe  
silence on the other end was her answer. "Phoebe, the last guy your fiancee set me up  
with was a total dork."  
"I understand Gen, but..." she heard Gerald talking to Phoebe on the other side.   
"Apparently this one is different. He's a professor at the University of Illinois."  
"A professor? What does he profess?"  
"He's a doctor of anthropology. Gerald thinks you'll like him."  
Genevieve sighed. "All right Phoebe. I'll be wherever you guys pick. But warn Gerald  
that if his friend is a total loser, I will make sure he regrets it."  
"Warning." Phoebe confirmed. ""I'll call you tomorrow afternoon."  
As Genevieve hung up the phone, a chill ran over her back. It was almost like something  
was telling her that it wasn't a good idea to agree to this. But she had already committed.   
If she got bored, she could always give them a excuse and skip out. 


	3. Part Three

The next evening, Genevieve took a cab to the theater, knowing she was going to meet for  
drinks at the jazz bar two blocks from the theater. She knew it well; she and some of her  
castmates would head out there after a show because it was one of the few places that  
served food after ten in the evening. If things got uncomfortable, she knew she could  
always find a ride home.  
"Hey Gen, you want to meet at Elvin's after the show?" One of the girls in the show  
called out as she walked into the theater.  
"I'm already going to be there." she called back. "I've been set up on another blind  
date."  
"My condolences. But hey, if it doesn't work out, guesture to me and I'll send Timothy  
over to pretend he's your boyfriend."  
Genevieve laughed. 'Timothy has a hard time convincing anyone he's a guy."  
"I' heard that!" Timothy sung out as he flitted past the two women. "Be nice or I won't  
let you borrow those shoes you've been eyeing."  
Genevieve walked into her dressing room, blocking out the good natured arguing in the  
hall. She sat down and looked at herself in the mirror; long blond hair, small face,  
delicate features, two eyebrows; thank goodness for that one; fit body.   
It was a ritual she did before every show. To reaffirm herself that she really had changed. that she had grown up like this and it wasn't all just a bad dream. She was Genevieve Bouliviar.  
Sighing, she gathered up her hair and began to wrap it in a bun. Her dressing room door  
opened and Meg, her assistant, walked in.  
"Thirty minutes before showtime, Gin. You remember your lines?"  
"Smart ass."  
"Nope. Don't think that's in there."  
She smiled at Meg and sat back so her assistant could do her magic.  
  
The curtain rose and a hush fell over the audience. A single male sat foreword  
expectantly, clutching his program in his hand, his eyes on the stage. Any minute now and  
Annalyse would walk on stage. This was the fifth time he had seen this play and he never  
grew tired of it. Or more specifically, the actress playing Annalyse. He still remembered  
the first time he'd seen the stage actress. He'd been in New York doing a practicium at  
Columbia for his Junior year when a friend of his suggested they see a Broadway play.   
He had agreed and they two of them had ended up in Times Square watching a updated  
off Broadway rendition of Hamlet.   
That was where he had first seen Genevieve Boulivier.   
She was playing a slightly modern version of Ophelia. He had fallen for her immediately. She  
was beautiful, and poetic, and she had just a hint of toughness that reminded him of  
something he couldn't place. He went back ten more times to watch her. Then he found  
out she was in another play and he went to see that also. When he finally had to return to  
Chicago, he kept track of her career . Last year, when he'd found out that she was  
coming to Chicago for a year on stage, he couldn't believe it. He tried to take the hour's  
drive up and back at least once a month just to see her on stage.  
  
She stepped on stage and it was like time stopped for him. Every time she flirted with the  
leading man on stage, his heart skipped; every time she winked at the audience, he smiled;  
every time she flitted her hips and smiled seductively at the men on stage, he was  
enraptured. The play was a stage play of the opera Carmen, and Genevieve played  
Annalyse, the gypsy's role, perfectly.   
Time flew, as he watched her, and it came down to the final act and the final kiss between Analyse and Donald. Every time he watched them, his heart broke. Every time, he wished briefly that he was Donald, up on stage, kissing her.  
  
The curtain closed and he stood up along with everyone else, to applaud. He watched her  
walk out one last time to take her final bow then it was over. Sighed heavily, he grabbed  
his jacket and walked out of the theater. He was suppose to meet Gerald and Phoebe at a  
jazz bar about two blocks away for this blind date Gerald had set him up on. He really  
wasn't in the mood for a date, but agreed anyway. If it went to bad, he could always fake  
a morning meeting and leave early. 


	4. Part Four

Phoebe and Gerald were sitting at a table at Elvin's waiting for the other two to show up.  
"So, where's your friend?" Phoebe asked. Gerald shrugged.   
"He said he was going to see a play then he'd be here." He glanced around, then stood up  
halfway in his seat and waved. "There he is."  
Phoebe looked up to catch sight of a mane of blond hair. Her eyes widened in horror.   
"You didn't tell me it was Arnold." She hissed at Gerald. He glanced back at her  
confused.   
"Does it make a difference?"  
Phoebe looked in panic as Arnold came to their table and greeted Gerald in the same  
handshake they'd had since pre-school. He leaned over and kissed Phoebe on the cheek.  
"Evening Phoebe." he said, sitting down.  
"Gerald didn't tell me you were in town."  
Gerald grinned at her. "How many of my other friends do you set up on dates."  
Arnold sighed. "I really wish you would stop with me. I don't need to be hooked up  
Gerald."  
"Trust me, you'll appreciate this one." Gerald said  
Phoebe blocked out their talking, instead concentrating on the door. Genevieve was going  
to have a fit when she found out. She just knew this was going to turn out bad.  
Arnold was the one to spot her first. His eyes widened and he stopped talking, grabbing  
Gerald's arm.   
"It's her!" he gasped. Gerald looked around.  
"Her who?"  
Phoebe looked over and saw Genevieve walk in . There was no way she could get up  
discreetly and warn her.  
"Genevieve Boulivier. The stage actress."  
Phoebe looked over at him startled.  
"You know her?"  
Arnold shook his head, his eyes not leaving Genevieve's figure. "No. But I'm a huge fan  
of hers. Her play was the one I went to see tonight."  
Phoebe covered her mouth with her hand, hoping at that minute a freak accident would  
happen so she could escape this horror. She watched helplessly as Genevieve scanned the  
bar, then spotted her.  
Gerald grinned widely, slapping Arnold on the back. "Then tonight's your lucky night my  
friend. Because that's your blind date."   
Phoebe watched as Genevieve smiled at her, her eyes going to the two men with her at the  
table. Then she froze. 


	5. Part Five

Genevieve walked into the bar, waving to Mickey, the owner. She scanned the bar  
looking for Phoebe and hoping her date wasn't too horrible.   
"See him yet?" Timothy asked, brushing past her.  
"Not your type." she answered, finally spotting Phoebe.  
"Honey, all men are my type." he quipped, walking over to where the other cast members  
were. Genevieve looked curiously at Phoebe. She had a look of appending horror on her  
face. Was her date that bad? She looked at the men at the table with Phoebe, spotting  
Gerald immediately, then the man sitting next to him. She froze. Oh no, it couldn't be.   
Phoebe wouldn't be so cruel as to not tell her. She glanced quickly around her. Maybe  
she could sneak out before anyone saw her. She glanced back at the table and saw both  
men looking at her. Damn, caught. Taking a deep breath, she smile and walked towards  
the table.  
It isn't him, it just looks like him.  
It can't be him. It just looks like him.  
It isn't him, it just looks like...oh my god it's him.  
Reaching the table, she stared into a set a green eyes she had begun to believe she had  
only imagined. They now sparkled behind a pair of wire rimmed glasses.  
Gerald smiled. "Hey Ginny, have a seat. Genivieve, this is Arnold McIssacs.   
Arnold...Genevieve Boulivier."  
He took her hand, smiling at her...she still remembered that smile.  
"Nice to meet you Genevieve." he said.  
She smiled at him, her mind screaming at her to run. "You too." She answered too  
breathy for her tastes.  
He held her seat as she sat down. She smiled once more at him, then turned her attention  
to Phoebe, who was still sitting there looking like she just ate bad seafood.   
"Hi Phoebe." she said, reaching over to hug her friend.  
"You didn't tell me." she hissed in her ear.  
"I didn't know until he walked in here." Phoebe whispered back frantically.  
Genevieve sat back, giving Phoebe a terrified look before putting her mask in place and  
facing the two men.  
Gerald, for his part, thought this was all going great. "Arnold here, is a big fan of yours."  
Arnold blushed lightly, smiling. Genevieve looked over at him.  
"Really?"  
"I first saw you in an off- Broadway production of Hamlet. I have to confess I am quite a  
fan."  
She laughed. "That was ages ago. That was my first real play."  
"I hope this doesn't freak you out?"  
"No. You're a friend of Gerald's. You can't be that bad."  
He smiled at her again as a waiter came over.   
"Let me buy you a drink," Arnold said. She stopped him, putting her hand on his arm  
before he could move.   
"It's my dinner time," she explained, turning her attention to the waiter. "Can I get the pasta tonight, Paul?"  
"Sure Ginny. You want wine with that also?"  
She nodded. "And a water with lemon right now."  
She noticed she still had her hand on his arm and pulled away quickly.  
"Sorry." she muttered.  
"So," Gerald said, trying to break the ice. " What else have you been up to?"  
Phoebe finally relaxed after her realized nothing major was going to happen and occasionally add something to their conversation. Genevieve sat back, listening to the two men talk about everything from work to school to life in general. She almost felt like an outsider, she hadn't been around these people for so long. Her food arrived and Arnold ordered a dessert so she wouldn't have to eat alone. She watched him now, over her wineglass, as he took a bite of cheesecake and waved his fork at Gerald.  
"You will never guess who I ran into last time I was in town." he said. "Rhonda  
Wellington-Lloyd and Lila Patterson. Apparently they run in the same crowd now."  
Genevieve's eyes widened, and she glanced at Phoebe.   
"Where did you see them?" Phoebe asked, puzzled.  
"I thought Rhonda was living in Massachusetts now?" Gerald asked.  
"They were down here for a shopping spree. Apparently Lila and Rhonda's husbands  
work together in some sort of brokerage dealings and flew down to Chicago to take care  
of some business. I ran into them coming out of Tiffany's. Lila's 'ever so charming and  
handsome' husband gave her the credit cards and let her go on shopping spree."  
"Did you see them?" Phoebe asked. "The husbands, I mean?"  
Arnold nodded. "Yep. Trophy wives. The ever so charming and handsome husbands   
have got to be pushing sixty. And that's being nice."  
"You aren't still bitter, are you." Gerald asked.  
Arnold snorted. "I was never bitter in the first place. Just...blinded." He shook his head,  
taking another bite of his dessert. He looked over at Phoebe. "If I had listened to you and Helga in the first place, I wouldn't have spent my Sophomore  
year in misery."  
Genevieve choked on her wine. He looked over at her worriedly as she scrambled for a  
napkin.  
"Are you okay?" he asked.  
She nodded, covering her mouth. "Sophomore year?" she choked out.  
Gerald laughed. "Tell her about your Sophomore year in high school."  
Arnold shook his head. "She doesn't want to hear about high school things. Besides, that  
was years ago."  
Genevieve nodded her head, taking a sip of water. "I want to know. You've peeked my  
interest about this Lila person. Was she really that bad?"  
He sighed. "All right. You think something would've clicked when she expressed an  
interest in my cousin Arnie..." 


	6. Part Six

Phoebe watched as Genevieve sat there her attention on Arnold as he told the story of his year of misery dating Lila. She leaned in slightly, pushing her food away to hear him over  
the music.  
She's flirting with him. Phoebe thought suddenly. That was a very dangerous  
game to play here. If she didn't want anyone to knew who she really was, these two men  
were the last people she wanted to be playing this game with. Arnold was dense but if  
Genevieve said the wrong thing, he could put two and two together. And if there was one  
thing she knew about Arnold, when got hold of a mystery, he didn't let go until it was  
solved. She waited until he finished his story, then tapped Genevieve's arm.  
"I need to go to the restroom. You need to come with me?"  
Genevieve nodded, and excused herself from the table. Phoebe waited until they reached  
the bathroom then closed the door and turned on her.  
"What are you doing? " she asked. Genevieve looked at her oddly.  
"Following you into the bathroom?"  
"No. With Arnold. What are you doing with Arnold?"  
She frowned. "I'm not doing anything. Why?"  
Phoebe shook her head in disbelief. "Yes you are. You're leaning in, you're playing with  
your wineglass. You are flirting with him."  
Genevieve frowned. "I was not. Was I?" She looked at Phoebe horrified. "Oh my god I  
was. What am I doing?"  
"Ginny, it's okay to flirt, but you have to be careful around him. In case you don't remember, if  
he senses a mystery, he won't stop until it's solved."  
Genevieve rubbed her forehead. "I remember. Okay, I'm being careful. But if you catch  
me doing the girlie thing, kick me or something okay?"  
Phoebe nodded.  
  
"So, what do you think?"  
"I think I'm boring her with all the boring details of my high school career."  
"Seriously."  
"I am being serious."  
Gerald smiled. "I think she likes you."  
Arnold frowned. "Where do you get that?"  
"She's doing the flirting thing. You know; leaning in, playing with the wineglass. That  
kind of thing."  
Arnold shook his head. "I highly doubt it."  
"I'm telling you she's attracted to you. And it's clear you like her. Talk to her. Flirt  
back."  
Arnold looked towards the back of the bar where the two women were walking .   
Genevieve was talking to Phoebe, when she turned suddenly and waved at someone he  
couldn't see. When she turned back, one part of her hair had covered part of her face.   
Arnold frowned. Something familiar about that tugged at his mind but her couldn't  
remember what. He remembered a French restaurant and a girl with a horrible French  
accent. Genevieve pulled her hair away from her face and smiled at something Phoebe  
said.   
Arnold watched her as the two returned back to the table and sat down. There was  
something familiar about her, something other than the fact that he'd seen her on stage  
over a couple of dozen times. Something beyond her face and looks. Something he  
couldn't put his finger on.  
She was talking to Phoebe and Gerald about her current stage production. Watching her talk, his mind went back to what Gerald had said right before the women sat down. Had  
she really been flirting with him? He never noticed things like that, which is probably why he  
never dated much. He looked down at his plate. There was a bite or two of the  
cheesecake left. He looked back up at her, his eyes gleaming. Maybe it was time to test  
Gerald's theory.  
She glanced over at him, still smiling over something Gerald had said. She looked at him oddly. He smiled slightly, spearing a piece a cheesecake.  
"Would you like the last piece?" he asked.  
Her eye widened slightly, then she smiled. "Sure."  
She leaned over taking the piece from him, her lips closing over the fork. He pulled the  
fork away, captivated by her. He barely felt Gerald kick him in the leg. She licked her lips,  
wiping the last of the crumbs off.   
"I love Micky's cheesecake." she said, after swallowing. "He makes them homemade  
every morning."  
He nodded slightly, his heart pounding. She was flirting with him. Genevieve Boulivier  
was actually flirting with him. Gerald was right. Absently, he licked the remaining  
cheesecake from the fork, not fully realizing the effect until he saw her raise an eyebrow.   
He blushed lightly, putting down the fork. He glanced over at Gerald who was smirking  
at him with an 'I told you so' look.   
Genevieve listened to Phoebe and Gerald talk about their wedding plans, her mind  
still a whirlwind of thoughts. She couldn't believe she'd done that, fully knowing the  
implications of her actions. The expression on his face told her everything. He was  
intrigued. Which was good. She wanted him intrigued. Just for once, she wanted Arnold  
intrigued with her. Even if it was Genevieve. She handled it when she played the part of  
Celeste, she could handle it as Genevieve. It didn't matter.  
She heard Micky call out last call for drink, and looked at her watch. It was almost three  
in the morning. Had they really been here that long?  
"Good gracious," Phoebe said, echoing Geneiveve's thoughts. "Is it really that late  
already?"  
Genevieve looked around. All of the cast members had left for the night which meant she  
would be taking a cab home.  
"Can I give you a ride home?" Arnold asked her. She looked at him smiling.  
"I'd like that, thanks."  
She gathered her sweater, and gave Phoebe a hug promising to be careful. The four left the bar and split up, after Arnold promised Gerald he'd call tomorrow afternoon. Then,  
they were alone.  
"My car's over here"" he said. She followed him, her heart pounding. Did she really  
know what she was getting herself into? Did she really care?   
He turned off the alarm on a stylish four door Lexus and opened the passenger door for her. She slid in, looking around at the car as he got in on the other side and started the  
car. The radio was set on a jazz station. She smiled, shaking her head slightly. He hadn't  
outgrown that either.  
"Nice car." she said. He smiled, pulling out of the parking lot.   
"One of the few perks of having a Doctorate. More money." He glanced over at her  
while waiting for a stop light to turn.  
Genevieve looked over at him and found him watching her. How could she ever forget  
those eyes? She remembered drowning in those eyes when she was younger, although it  
usually was during a heated argument.  
"Speaking of Doctorates," she said. "Are the glasses part of the entire doctorate thing, or  
do you really need them?"  
"Huh? Oh, I had to get glasses in high school. Usually I wear contacts, but I find in class  
they make me look more proffessorly."   
"Why anthropology?" she asked, already knowing the answer to the question. "Oh, turn  
left here."  
"My parents were anthropologists." he said turning. "They disappeared when I was two.   
I guess I'm kinda following in their footsteps."  
"I'm sorry. Right for two more blocks. I hope I didn't bring up any bad memories."  
"Don't be. I don't have very many memories of them." He turned where she indicated.   
"So, how many more months do you have before you return to New York?"  
"Thirty- four more days. I'll miss Phoebe, but I think I'm getting homesick." She pointed  
towards a large building. "That's where I'm staying."  
He nodded, getting over in traffic. "I grew up in Chicago. I only live about an hour and a  
half away, but I still find myself getting homesick every once in a while."   
He pulled to the side of the building, turning off the car and getting out. He helped her  
out of the car.  
"I really enjoyed this evening, Genevieve."  
"So did I. And please, call me Ginny."  
He shook his head. "I couldn't. That's what everyone else calls you. I know you have a  
performance tomorrow, but would you like to meet for brunch?"  
She smiled. "I'd love to. There's a cafe next to the theater that serves a wonderful  
Sunday brunch. We could meet over there around noon?"  
He smiled back, his face showing relief. "That'd be great."  
"So I'll see you tomorrow?" She leaned over and kissed him lightly, savoring the taste of  
him before she reluctantly pulled away. "Goodnight."  
She walked away, through the door the doorman held for her, terrified to look back. If she  
looked back, she knew she go running back to him or something more stupid like ask him  
up to her apartment.  
She waited until the door to her apartment was closed before she allowed herself to relax  
and realize what she'd just done.  
"I kissed Arnold." she said to an empty apartment. She touched her lips, still not believing it really happened. "I had a date with Arnold and I kissed him." She let out an excited yelp and walked into the bathroom. 


	7. Part Seven

. Sap factor number five. *Warning* Sap ahead...  
  
  
  
  
Arnold sat at the table, folding and unfolding his napkin for the fiftieth time, waiting for  
Genevieve. He was early, and he felt like he was a teenager again, waiting for a big date.  
He'd woken up early that morning and called Gerald to tell him everything that happened  
after they left the bar. Her could hear Gerald grinning in satisfaction over the phone.  
"You asked her out again? Way to go, my man."  
"She kissed me."  
"She kissed you? I told you she liked you. Now don't ruin it this afternoon."  
  
"Am I late?" he heard a voice ask. He looked up, to see her slide into the chair across  
from him.   
"I got here early. You look great."  
She smiled, embarrassed. "It's a sweater a friend from New York bought me." She  
looked at him, curiously. "You aren't wearing your glasses."  
"No. I knew I was probably going to out late last night and my eyes get irritated after  
wearing these too long. That's why I had my glasses on last night." He explained, feeling  
like an idiot for explaining it.  
She smiled at him again. "You look handsome either way."  
Their waitress came over and he gave his order, then had a chance to look at her while she ordered. She was wearing a pink scoop neck sweater and creme pants and matching  
creme boots. Her hair was up in a bun secured by a pink scrunchie. He frowned thoughtfully looking at the scrunchie. He remembered knowing a girl at one time who always wore pink.   
She looked over at him. "What's wrong?" she asked, feeling her hair.  
"Nothing," he said. "Have you always lived in New York?"  
She laughed. "As far as I can remember. My parents set me up in a prep school then sent  
me to the School of Performing Arts. But trust me, my life is boring. Tell me about you.   
What is anthropology about?"  
They spent the rest of brunch comparing who had the more boring line of work until it  
came time to leave.  
"This time has gone by much to fast." Arnold said, paying the waitress before Genevieve  
could argue about it. "I know this sound silly, but I feel like I've known you forever."  
She laughed nervously. "It's because I'm an actress. Everyone feels like they know me."  
"Probably. It's too bad you're leaving before I can get a change to get up here again."  
"I'm willing to bet that you'll end up being my date for Phoebe and Gerald's wedding next  
year, so why don't we just make that deal now?" she said. Arnold grinned.  
"It's a date."  
"Great," she joked. "Now I won't have to try and round one up."  
He walked her to the stage door of the theater, neither one wanting it to end.  
"I really enjoyed myself this afternoon." he told her.  
"So did I." she said. He looked up at her nervously, then leaned foreword. Impulsively,  
she met him halfway, her heart jumping as their lips met again. He pulled her to him slightly, not wanting it to end. Reluctantly, he pulled away, not letting her go.  
"I can't seem to say goodbye." he whispered.  
"Then don't." she whispered back. "Say, I'll see you around."  
Letting her go, he stepped back. "Then I'll see you around Genevieve." he said, kissing  
the back of her hand.  
"I'll see you around Arnold." she said. He turned around and walked away and this time  
it was her watching him leave as he didn't turn back. 


	8. Part Eight

"I have to be going crazy Phoebs!" Genevieve exclaimed to her best friend as she walked  
into the apartment. She had called Phoebe early that morning and begged her to come  
over.  
Phoebe walked into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee.   
"What happened?"  
"I kissed him. Not once, but twice. What the hell am I doing?"  
"Twice? When was the second one?"  
Wait, you knew about the first one?"  
Phoebe shrugged, sitting down on the sofa. "Arnold called the house Saturday morning to  
tell Gerald about it. They sounded like a couple of grade school girls on the phone. But  
he didn't say anything about the second kiss last night."  
Genevieve flopped down opposite her friend.  
"Oh Phoebe, it was incredible. He kissed me, and held me, actually held me. It felt like  
time stopped for an instant." She looked over at Phoebe in horror.  
"I'm falling for him all over again. Phoebs I can't do this all over again. It was hard the  
first time."  
"Did you really ever stop loving him the first time?" Phoebe asked.  
Genevieve sighed. "I don't know. When Bob sent me to prep school under Olga's care, I  
didn't fit in at all. I mean, here I was an awkward, gangly bully in a school full of girls that  
could've put Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd to shame. And I was heart-broken. My lifeline  
was over three thousand miles away here and I was in some strange god-forsaken town,  
with nobody but my sister." She stood up, and began pacing the apartment. "I tried to  
hold onto him, for solace, for anything, but it just hurt too much. I couldn't see him, I  
couldn't talk to him, I couldn't tell my sister. Finally I just decided one day that I had to  
forget him. And in order to do that, I couldn't be that person anymore. It was almost like  
if Arnold wasn't with me, I couldn't be Helga. So I talked my sister into signing the  
papers to legally change my name. I told her I needed a stage name if I was to be a successful actress. I couldn't be an actress with a name like Helga Pataki." She sighed,  
looking over at Phoebe. "The day the judge told me my new name was the day I thought I  
had successfully forgotten Arnold. Even when I heard from you again, it never crossed  
my mind to ask how he was. I wouldn't let myself. I think I was too afraid of what you  
would've told me."  
Phoebe looked at her oldest friend. "Ginny, just because you don't eat ice cream any  
more doesn't mean you forget how it tastes. Especially when you suddenly get a sundae  
put in front of you."  
Genevieve looked at her like she lost her mind. "What the hell are you talking about?"   
Then she remembered. Ice cream was their secret way of talking about Arnold when they  
were younger.  
"My point is," Phoebe continued, noticing the realization on Genevieve's face. "You never stopped loving Arnold. It was never a crush for you, or you would've forgotten about it by now and Saturday night would've meant nothing for you. I saw your face when you recognized him. It looked like you were either going to faint or run away."  
Genevieve grinned. "I was opting for the running away."  
"You may have succeeded on making your mind forget about him, but your heart never  
did."  
Genevieve walked back tot he couch. "Great. So we've established that I'm still in love  
with Arnold. Which comes too late considering I'm going home in thirty-two days. But  
here's the problem. I still love Arnold, but he likes Genevieve. He has no idea who I am."  
Phoebe took her hand and looked at her.   
"Gen, Arnold likes you. Really likes you. There was always a little piece of Genevieve in  
Helga and there will always be a little piece of Helga in Genevieve. Trust me, I've seen  
it."  
Genevieve laughed. "So we're back at square one."  
"Yes, but remember, Arnold's nothing if not persistent." Phoebe told her. "Trust me, he'll  
think about this and if he wants it bad enough, you'll hear from him." 


	9. Part Nine

A year later  
  
"Gerald, I have to see her. I can't stand it anymore. I still think about her everyday."  
"Arnold relax," Gerald told him on the other end of the phone. ""he wedding is in a  
month, she's already RSVP."  
"I can't wait that long, Gerald. I'm going out to find her."  
"What? Wait a minute man, you're going to New York? School starts up again in three  
weeks. You don't even know where she lives. This is crazy Arnold."  
"Gerald, I'm going crazy. I know what theater she's at and what she's performing in. I'm  
going to see her."  
"What if she's dating someone? What then?"  
"Then I try to forget her and get on with my life. Gerald, this is the woman I was meant  
to be with. I just know it."  
"You've gone crazy. Phoebe, will you talk some sense into him?"  
Arnold heard the extention pick up, then Phoebe's voice.  
"She isn't dating anyone Arnold. Just be careful."  
"Phoebe!"  
He sighed in relief. "Thank you so much Phoebe. I'll call you when I get back."   
He hung up the phone and went to grab his suitcase.  
  
  
Gerald hung up the phone and looked at his fiancee in disbelief.   
"I can't believe you. You're suppose to be the intelligent one out of the two of us. What  
are you thinking?"  
Phoebe looked at him and smiled.   
"I'm thinking that I'm not calling Ginny to warn her. I'm thinking this should've been  
resolved a long time ago. And I'm thinking that Arnold is going to have plenty of thinking  
to do when he sees Ginny again.""   
He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Sighing, she took his hand and let him to the  
couch.  
"Sit down dear, there's something I need to tell you about Genevieve."  
  
Arnold took his seat in the audience, carrying flowers and feeling nervous. This  
was the only place he knew to find her at and he was hoping he could see her after the  
show. It was an off-Broadway play called Girlfight and he had no idea what it was about  
except that Genevieve was in it. The lights went down and the play began.   
The play was about three girls who grew up on the streets of New York and were dealing with how their lives had turned out when they grew up. The first part told the story of the  
girls at age eleven. Three younger girls played those parts. As he watched, the younger  
brunette reminded him of someone in his past. Intermission came and then the second act.   
Genevieve came out on stage playing the brunette years later. Even grow, the girl had a  
mean attitude that was used to hide the hurt and insecurity she dealt with as a child.   
Arnold found himself caught up in the story. As the story progressed, he began to have  
flashbacks of a younger time.  
'What does the G stand for?'  
'I can't believe you're related to old money.'  
'Why don't you try being nice for a change?'  
Arnold shook his head frowning.   
On stage, the brunette, Hillary, was being particularly nasty to a co-worker.  
"Who said you could touch me, geek? You don't know the first thing about me, and I'd  
prefer to keep it that way."  
'Who said you could touch me, football head?'  
Arnold gasped, his eyes widening. Hillary. He knew who Hillary was. He remembered  
who Rhonda was exasperated about.  
'I can't believe your mother is a Boulivier. I can't believe you're related to old money,  
Helga. Especially with the way you dress.'  
'You're always so mean Helga. Why don't you try being nice for a change?'  
'You're always so fond of saying it. So what does the G stand for in Helga G. Pataki?'  
"Genevieve" Arnold whispered. He slid out of his seat and escaped into the foyer.  
Genevieve Boulivier was Helga Pataki. Or was Helga Pataki actually Genevieve  
Boulivier?   
It didn't matter, all he knew was the woman he couldn't stop thinking about, the woman  
he was obsessed with, the woman he loved, was his greatest tormentor in grade school.  
He froze. Woman he loved. He was in love with Genevieve. Or Helga. Or whoever the  
hell she was.  
'Out of my way Barbie!'  
'Cut! I said, cut! Hey kid, I said cut!'  
'So why did you kiss me so long Helga?'  
'It's not like I liked it football head.'  
Arnold looked back at the closed theater door. Had she been in love with him before?   
Could she be now?   
Grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil off the nearest counter, he scribbled a note.   
The doors to the theater were opening, signaling the end of the performance. He grabbed  
a passing usher.   
"Where's the stage entrance?"  
"Around back to your left."  
Arnold took off outside, flowers in one hand, the note in the other. 


	10. Part Ten

Genevieve, sat in her dressing room, methodically pulling off her costume. It was almost therapeutic to do this play as her character was so close to what she used to be or what  
she could've become if she hadn't come to New York. But she was glad the run was  
almost over for her. She didn't think she could do this for very much longer. It was  
beginning to wear her down.  
She shook out her hair and threw on a robe when there was a knock at her door.   
Frowning she walked over and peeked out. One of the stage hands stood there. He  
handed her some flowers.   
"These are from an odd man outside. He practically begged me to make sure you got  
these."  
She thanked him, taking the flowers and shut the door. Pulling back the wrapping she saw the slip of paper resting inside them. Putting the flowers down, she took out the paper  
and opened it.  
I said I'd see you around.  
-Arnold  
  
Genevieve flung open the door and looked around until she spotted the stage hand who  
brought her the flowers.   
"Hey!"  
He turned around. "Yeah?"  
"Can you recognize the guy who gave you the flowers?"  
He nodded.  
"Get him in here."  
The guy shrugged and walked towards the stage door. Genevieve shut the door, realizing her hands were shaking. She couldn't believe he was in town. And he looked for her.  
There was another knock on her door, startling her. Gathering herself together, she opened the door. He stood on the other side looking at her curiously.  
"You doubted me?"  
Her face broke out in a smile and she pulled him into the dressing room, shutting the door  
behind her.  
"Arnold! I can't believe you came!" she said excitedly, throwing her arms around him.  
'Arnold? Arnold!'  
He closed his eyes, gathering her to him. It didn't matter who she was. It only mattered  
that she was in his arms now.   
"I missed you so much." he murmured in her ear. "After you left, I couldn't stop thinking  
about you. Tell me you aren't dating anyone."  
"I'm not dating anyone." she told him.  
He pulled away only enough to kiss her. She melted further against him, her arms  
clutching his shoulders. Finally he pulled away, looking into her eyes.  
"We need to talk." he said. She frowned slightly.  
"What's wrong?"  
"I need to ask you some things. Do you mind if we go back to my hotel room?"  
She shook her head. "Give me five minutes to get dressed and I'll meet you in the hall."  
He let her go and walked to the door. "Five minutes."  
  
Five minutes later, she stepped out of her dressing room in a pair of jeans and the same pink sweater she'd worn on their lunch date. Her blond hair was up in a pony tail.  
"Sorry, usually I go home after a performance."  
He smiled at her, shaking his head. "You look wonderful."   
Taking her hand, they left the theater and hailed a cab. He waited until they actually made it to his room and he'd shut the door before he spoke again. Genevieve threw her bag on the floor and sat down on one of the chairs looking up at him.  
"Now. What is it that you need to ask me?"  
"Um, did you want something to eat?" he asked nervously. If he was correct the helga he remembered did not like getting one upped. "I know you usually don't eat  
before a performance and you're probably hungry."  
She shook her head. "I'm fine."  
Sighing shakily, he walked around the room. "Okay, um, this is really difficult. I went to  
your performance tonight, wanting to see you, hoping that after I could talk to you. I had  
no idea what the play was about."  
Genevieve frowned uncomprehendingly. "You saw more of me that you expected? My  
character isn't the one who runs around in her underwear."  
"Your character. Your character got me thinking. It kind of jump started my memory."   
He stopped, looking at her. "I told you once that I felt like I'd known you forever. I  
have."  
"Have what?"  
"Known you forever. Or at least my entire life. I just didn't remember until a couple of  
hours ago."  
Now it was Genevieve's turn to be nervous. She stood up suddenly, her eyes wide.  
"What are you talking about. Gerald set us up on a blind date a year ago. That's the first  
time we've met."  
He shook his head. "No it isn't. And you know it. I know who you are. I remember."  
"I know who I am too. And right now, I'm getting annoyed."  
"How do you know Phoebe?"  
That question caught her off guard. "We met when she came to New York one summer."  
"Wrong. Phoebe's never been to New York."  
Genevieve frowned. "Fat lot you know. Phoebe used to come down here one month  
every summer to spend with me."  
"You didn't meet Phoebe here. You knew her long before then."  
Genevieve grabbed her bag. "That's it. This conversation is over. I'm going home and  
tomorrow, so are you."  
"No." He blocked her way to the door. She looked at him angrily.  
"Arnold. Move."  
"No."  
"Move."  
"No."  
"Move it. Now."  
"No."  
Sighing, he threw her purse on the bed and walked towards the phone.  
"What are you doing?" he asked.  
"Calling management." she answered, picking up the phone.  
"I know what the G stands for." he told her. "It stands for Genevieve. And Boulivier  
was your mother's maiden name."  
She put down the phone and slowly turned to face him, her eyes wary.  
"We had to do a family tree. I remember Rhonda was furious when she found out." he  
walked towards her slowly. "You almost never called me by my name. You always called  
me something else."  
She finally found her voice. "I...I don't know what you're talking about."  
"Yes you do. Say it." he said, a gleam in his green eyes.  
"Say what?"  
"You know."  
"Arnold..."  
"No. Say it."  
She scrambled away from the phone to the other side of the bed before he could reach her.  
"I don't know what you want."  
"Yes, you do."  
"Arnold, please..."  
"Say it."  
Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the back of the chair and looked at him.  
"No."  
"Say it."  
She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his.  
He frowned, faltering a bit. "Why."  
"Because the person you're looking for no longer exists. And if that's who you're looking  
for, then I'm sorry, you have the wrong girl."  
He smiled softly. "No I don't. She's still here."  
She shook her head again.  
"Helga..."  
"Don't!" Genevieve yelled. "Don't say that name. That girl is gone. And the world is  
better for it."  
He's slid up next to her and took her hand before she realized. "No she isn't. And  
nobody's better for her passing."  
He pulled her to him, but she resisted.  
"What happened? Why did you become Genevieve?"  
She shook her head, pulling her hand away. " You don't understand." She walked away  
from him, holding herself tightly.   
"She was just a little girl. She had one close friend she treated like a dog, tons of people  
who were acquaintance because of the power and fear she received, and tormented the  
one person she care most about to the point that everyone, including him thought they  
couldn't stand each other. Then she left, and she had nothing. Everything she gained, was  
gone here. And the one thing that had been her lifeline for her was no longer there. So,  
she changed." She smiled sarcastically. "She was a great actress before. So incredible  
that everyone thought her act was real. So she decided to become an actress. To do that,  
she had to leave everything behind. And she couldn't do that without a name change. So,  
she convinced her sister to sign the papers and boom." She turned around to look at him.,  
her eyes moist. "Helga Pataki was gone, and Genvieve Boulivier was born."  
He stared at her in disbelief. "You really changed your name?"  
She smiled sadly. "Have a social security card and everything. Officially and legally, I am  
Genevieve Boulivier."  
"And physically?"  
"I've been Genevieve Boulivier before I had the name."  
"Even when you were Cecile?"  
She grinned. "I told you, I was a great actress."  
"I don't care what you call yourself, now, then, ten years in the future. You're the person  
I fell in love with. Now, then and ten years in the future."  
She frowned confused. "Then?"  
He grinned. "Ask Gerald and Phoebe what I was like in the fifth grade. They both got so  
sick of it that one day, Phoebe came up behind me while I was moping and said, 'Move it,  
football head.' as mean as she could, just so I'd shut up."  
Genevieve looked at him in stunned shock for a moment, then burst out laughing.  
"Of course, she apologized afterwards when I whirled around to look at her. Ruined the  
entire effect."  
Genevieve had leaned against the side of the wall, holding her stomach, still laughing.   
Arnold walked over to her, sliding his arms around her.   
"The point is, I stopped thinking of it as an insult in second grade. It's was more of... a  
pet name. And I loved you as Helga, I love you as Genevieve, and I'll love you ten years  
in the future when you've changed your name again."  
Smiling, she let herself be drawn into his embrace. "I don't think I'll be changing my name  
again."  
He smiled down at her knowingly. "Oh trust me, one day, one of those names will be  
changed." 


	11. Epilogue

This is it. I warned you I'm the queen of sap and angst.  
  
  
Epilogue  
  
The door to the hotel suite was kicked open and a man walked in half carrying his bride  
over the threshold.  
"I've got you."  
"Put me down before you drop me."   
"No wait, I've..."  
He tripped and they both crumpled into a heap. With one of his free feet, he kicked the  
door shut.  
"I'm stuck."  
"Hold on, I think I'm sitting on your dress."  
"Wait, ow! Watch where your jabbing me!"  
"Sorry. Will I be needing that later?"  
"Not if you don't get off my dress."  
"Well, hold on." He moved and finally rolled free of her. He stood up, holding out his  
hand to her.  
"Need help?"  
She growled softly, taking his hand and hauling herself up. He pulled her into his arms as  
she stood up, and pulled her into a brief kiss.  
"I told you you'd be changing your name again."  
Blue eyes looked into green eyes. Finally she stepped away, shaking her head.  
"Move it, football head." she muttered, taking the veil from her head. He grinned,  
moving slightly out of her way.  
"Whatever you say, my love." 


End file.
